


trouble in paradise

by battyboy



Series: The Wild Ones AKA The Starky Bunch [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya has a hard time reconciling her relationship, Can the Stark kids please chill on their weird-ass relationships?, Consensual Thramsay, Dancer!Arya, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jaqen's motives are shady, M/M, New York City, Ramsay is his own warning, Theon and Arya are my offical BROTP, Theon is a functioning alcoholic at age 18, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 22:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12068052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battyboy/pseuds/battyboy
Summary: Arya is facing some deep confusion and Theon is trying to help, he really is, but he's vodka-drunk and Ramsay won't stop sending him dick pics."Everyone thinks Jaqen is some kind of predator and I can’t talk to anyone about this and it’s stressing me out and I don’t know what to do! And now he thinks I could be a ballerina at the boarding school in New York when he goes back to perform on Broadway and I’d live with him and I really wanna do that but I dunno if I wanna leave and sometimes he overwhelms me and--” She stopped, her throat clenching. It took a long moment before she could breathe again.





	trouble in paradise

Arya sat at the kitchen island, a mug of hot chocolate between her hands, watching the rain outside. The windowpanes sparkled with it. The kitchen, gigantic and full of white tile, was so clean that it was almost blinding. The floors were polished to a shine. There wasn’t a splash of grease on the backsplash or a crumb on the counter. It wasn’t like they had maids. Catelyn made her kids clean like servants once a week just to ensure their house was presentable. Apparently, scrubbing a kitchen with bleach until your hands were raw and bleeding built character. 

 

She sighed, deep and dramatic. It felt good, so she did it again. A pumpkin-scented candle was flickering a few feet away. She walked her fingers across the tile of the island and up the glass candleholder. Arya held her fingers above the flame, lowering them until it burned. Jaqen said that pain-tolerance was one of the things that marked a good ballerina from a great ballerina. If you could work through your pain,then it proved that your work ethic was strong. 

 

Jaqen...

 

She nervously choked down half the hot chocolate in one go. She swallowed like three full-sized marshmallows. Not pleasant.

 

Theon came wandering in with a bottle of cheap vodka in one hand and a bowl of ramen in the other. He swigged the vodka and stumbled over to the island. “Arya, what are you doing here?” he snapped. 

 

“It’s my house too,” she snapped back. “You’re drunk.” As he came closer, she saw that her brother had a black eye. He smiled at her with bloody teeth. He looked like hell. “Are you -- shit, are you okay?” She hopped down from her chair and ushed Theon into it. “Who did this to you?”

 

He bared his teeth. Blood dripped down over his thin lips and onto his chin. “Ramsay did it. I asked him to.” He was only a little tipsy, really, but something about his little sister just invited being messed with. It was like when he was little and used to dangle his pet lizard in Sansa’s face. She’d scream and run. Arya always reacted like that, except the screaming was angry-screaming and the running was sprinting at you to full-body tackle you. 

 

Arya snatched the vodka while he was distracted. She pushed the ramen to the other side of the island, the bowl bumping along the few uneven tiles there were. “Are you insane?” she softly. She started to stress-eat his ramen. “Theon, that’s really unhealthy. You’re hurt.” 

“What do  _ you _ know? You’re fourteen,” he sulked. “Stop eating my ramen.” He snatched the bowl back and started to slurp the noodles. Tipsy Theon was a hangry Theon.

 

“Gross. You wanna eat that any louder?” Her big brother grunted. Arya let him gulp his soup in...relative silence for the next five minutes. She sneakily grabbed the vodka bottle and took a quick swig. Glanced at Theon out of the corner of her eye to see if he’d protest. When he didn’t, she quaffed a lot more than she should have. It was cheap shit.  _ Burned _ going down. Her vision started swimming almost immediately. 

 

“Arya,” he said finally, “stop it. That’s dangerous.” He curled his fingers around the neck of the bottle and gently dragged it away from his little sister. Even though his face was throbbing and he was still half-hard from messing around with Ramsay, he was collected enough to be concerned for Arya. (Ram was actually up in Theon’s room waiting for the vodka and food which was currently being devoured by the two of them.) He probably shouldn’t have made Ram wait for him, but there was something off about Arya.

 

“Where do you get off giving me life advice?” she grumbled. They sat in a long, pained silence for another five minutes. 

 

“D’you ever feel like this kitchen is too clean?” Theon said at last. “It looks like nobody lives here.” 

 

Arya nodded. There was another pause. She sipped her hot chocolate and realized how dizzy the world felt. Her gut churned even harder than it had been. Finally, she blurted, “Do you ever feel like you’ve got a problem you can’t tell anyone but you need advice on?”

 

Theon side eyed his little sister. “Sometimes. You okay, kid?”   

 

She shrugged. “Mostly.”

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, hear the caution in his voice. 

 

“You’ll laugh at me,” she grumbled.

 

“No. Say it. Bottling stuff up is dangerous.”

 

“You’d know dangerous.” 

 

“Stop it,” Theon snapped. “Be real with me. What’s wrong?”

 

Arya sighed. “Fine. But only because you asked. Okay, you know how you’re in a creepy relationship that nobody understands?” Her brother nodded with a frown. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t get mad. You’re the only one who really understands what I mean. Everybody says I shouldn’t be with Jaqen and that he’s taking advantage of me. Everyone’s excited for Sansa and Bran, but no one’s excited for me. Jon and Robb won’t talk to me now ‘cause they say I’m being insane. Everyone thinks Jaqen is some kind of predator and I can’t talk to anyone about this and it’s stressing me out and I don’t know what to do! And now he thinks I could be a ballerina at the boarding school in New York when he goes back to perform on Broadway and I’d live with him and I really wanna do that but I dunno if I wanna leave and sometimes he overwhelms me and--” She stopped, her throat clenching. It took a long moment before she could breathe again.

 

“Christ,” Theon said at length. He pulled the vodka towards himself and took a quick gulp. “Arya, if your gut feels wrong about --”

 

“But I don’t know it if does, that’s the problem!”

 

“Well, let’s say you leave with Jaqen. What would happen?” he asked. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder that Ramsay was upstairs, probably waiting to plow his ass, probably slowly jerking himself -- ugh.

 

Arya got up and put the bowl and mug in the sink. She started to mindlessly wash them. “Well, Dad would have to say yes first. But it’s not like we can’t afford the performing arts school. He’d probably be thrilled. You know he’s always nagging me to  _ ‘take initiative _ ’ or whatever.” She started to load the dishwasher with various dishes around the kitchen. Something to keep her hands busy while she puzzled all this out. “So I’ll make Dad happy.” She loaded her arms up with a colander, some glasses, and a few bowls. “If I got in, I guess I’d board there. Jaqen’s got a guaranteed gig in  _ Wicked _ , so he’d be performing eight shows a week. I don’t know if we’d see each other that much. Unless I went to his shows, did my homework in the greenroom. One thing I know is that I’d never be bored.” She’d finished loading the washer and looked up thoughtfully. “I really like Jaqen. He’s fun.” She set back down at the island every played with a stray string from her jeans. “I mean, it sounds kind of crazy. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, but if I do it, there’s no going back. And, I mean --  

 

Theon’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and saw...exactly what Ram was doing to keep himself entertained up there. “Well, kid, you sound like you’ve got it all figured out,” he said all in a rush. “If you really want to be a prima ballerina or whatever, then do this. You don’t have to stay with Jaqen. You don’t owe him shit. But you can if you want. If you like him. But you don’t have to. Okay, so...I’ve got some...Ramsay, is-- I need to go.” He grabbed the vodka and sprinted back up to his room. His bare feet pounded up the carpeted stairs. He’d never been more grateful that Mom and Dad slept like the dead. He finished the sprint at the top of the grand staircase and stared at the gigantic painting Dad had had commissioned just after he’d adopted him and Asha.

 

They were all so young. He, Robb, and Jon were nine. Sansa seven. Arya and Bran, the twins, were both five and chubby. Asha had been four, held in Ned’s arms like a princess.. Little Rickon hadn’t even been born yet. They’d actually painted a baby into Catelyn’s arms right after he was born. Ned had been so adamant about making sure his adopted children felt like they were a real and vital part of his family. He smiled, shook his head, and continued skidding down the hallway. He slammed his own door open...and saw Ramsay passed out on his bed.

 

He was so hard he was aching, he had half a bottle of vodka left, and his head was swirling with Arya’s personal issues. He needed to get off _ now _ . “Ram!” he hissed, poking the stocky guy in the calf. “Ram, wake up.”

 

Ramsay flopped over. He had drool running down his chin and his black curls were a hot mess. “Hmuh,” he said. 

 

“Baby, you kept texting me shit that made me go crazy,” Theon said. He plopped down on the bed and sat the vodka on his bedside table. “You ready?”

 

“Hnuhm,” Ramsay responded. “I’m asleep.”

 

“Ram,” Theon whined. “You fucked up my face.”

 

“You asked for it,” his boyfriend mumbled. “I’m asleep. Come to bed.”

 

“I’m _ in _ bed--”

 

“ASLEEP!” Ramsay thundered. He grabbed Theon and...well, the only word for it would be aggressive cuddling. Kind of painful, intense, possessive cuddling. That sort of choked him. Theon supposed he’d eventually have to take some time to think about the fact that his boyfriend couldn’t even do loving actions without hurting him somehow. Yeah, that one would take some considering. Maybe even a talk. But right now, he was perfectly happy to be in his weird little psycho’s arms.

XXX

“A man’s legs are too long for the middle seat.”

 

“Well, a girl has to pee all the time, and doesn’t want to be climbing over a man. A man who’s going to get tired of it and then be impatient and annoying.” Arya crossed her arms. They were standing in the aisle of the plane, and judging by the annoyed murmurs behind them, holding up boarding. 

 

“A man can’t say no to a girl, even when she’s an irritating brat,” Jaqen said fondly. He put their bags in the overhead bin and then climbed into the middle seat. Arya jumped happily into the aisle seat and leaned her head on his shoulder. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” she said softly.

 

Jaqen didn’t reply for a long while. He just stroked his fingers up and down her arm. The guy in the window seat looked vaguely uncomfortable at the physical contact between them, but didn’t say anything. “Yes, angel, it is happening.”

 

“Angel?”

 

“Yes, you’re like a little angel.” Arya cuddled into his side and smiled. She still had no idea how she felt. She could hardly believe she was moving all the way to New York to finish high school at some school she didn’t know anybody at. It would be the first time in her life without her family there. And she would be able to spend the night with Jaqen whenever she wanted. She would have free tickets to his Broadway shows whenever she wanted. God, it was all so surreal. And it was beginning right this second.

 

“If I’m an angel, what does that make you?” she giggled.

 

“The devil, don’t you know?” Jaqen smirked.

 

And Arya, despite the pit in her stomach, grinned wickedly back.  


End file.
